


The Girl

by Pelandreth



Category: Kenshi (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Glas Mirrah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26479651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pelandreth/pseuds/Pelandreth
Summary: Arienel’s farm is being ravaged by a monster and her father is too busy dealing with bandits, so she decides to take things into her own hands when a soldier’s boy from the city visits to help with the problems.Plot and illustrations by Patren.Reddit:u/saltshaker42Twitter:@ThatGuyPatrenRead the webcomic here!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	1. Sly Little Bastard

It was another boring morning on the farm, a boring morning of being locked in the house while her dad chased river raptors again. Arienel leaned over the edge of the farmhouse roof, trying to spot him among the fields, but she saw no sign of him. She would have to make do without her reference today.

She went back downstairs and sat cross-legged on the floor. The floorboards were old and worn smooth, but there was still the occasional splinter. Her skirt snagged as she wriggled into a comfortable position, and she heard a distinct tearing sound she’d come to associate with slapped wrists and scolding voices.

Arienel liked holes in clothes, even if the farmhand wives didn’t. She’d once torn one the size of her pinkie finger, a hole her imagination had decided was lucky. The wives had not agreed with Arienel’s assessment and had darned it for her. Arienel poked her finger through the rip and wondered if this one would get darned too.

Aside from being splintery, the floorboards were also very chalky. Arienel sat back on her bare heels, her tongue between her teeth as she inspected her drawing. A river raptor, hunched and hideous, held a man’s severed leg between its jaws. The pain on the man’s face had been drawn with incredible attention to detail, but Arienel was less sure about the raptor. She would have to ask her father about it later…

“Oh, Narko’s _tits!”_ The expletive was so loud it rattled the farmhouse walls. Arienel ran back up the stairs, nearly tripping over in her haste, and took another look over the side of the roof. Her father was pacing the yard, but to her great disappointment there was no raptor. “That sly little _bastard!”_

 _“Tits,”_ Arienel breathed. _“Bastard.”_

With the distraction gone she went inside for the last time, pausing for a moment on the stairs so she could survey her handiwork. It was much easier to see it from this angle. The rough sketch of the raptor still didn’t satisfy her, and the drawing was missing something else…

Arienel frowned, rolling the stub of chalk between her fingers. Suddenly a flash of inspiration came to her. Lowering her hand to the floorboards and taking care not to smear any of her previous work, she drew a third figure — a small girl, wielding a paladin’s cross as big as she was. The girl’s face bore a slightly feral smile, as if she relished her chance to kill the raptor. Arienel sketched some blood on the blade for good measure.

A key rattled in the lock. Arienel seized the broom, sweeping away the chalk. The door opened to reveal her father, looking significantly less wounded than Arienel’s drawing might have suggested. He took a cloth from the table and used it to wipe the sweat from his face.

“Did you get Grendel?” Arienel said.

“What?”

“The raptor that bit you on the leg last week.”

“You _named_ him?” His eyes travelled to the chalky mess on the floor. “Have you been drawing those horrible pictures again? Give me the chalk.”

Arienel hesitated. For a second her father seemed to fill the room. _“Now,”_ he thundered.

She pushed the chalk into his outstretched hand, a hand that closed into a crushing fist. Arienel watched as a fine powder trickled from between his fingers. “Once you’ve finished sweeping all this up, you’ll go into the yard where I can see you. You will stand quietly until it is time for lunch. Understood?”

“Yes, father.”

It had rained in the night, and the yard was churned up into mud. Arienel liked mud. She headed for the deepest patch she could find, but caught her father’s eye and went to stand somewhere that was drier. _Stupid father. Stupid yard. It’s not fair…_

“Blessings from the Lord of Light, brother. I heard you were having a little raptor problem.”

Arienel looked up. Two figures, one tall and one short, walking together across the yard to where her father was standing. They were still some distance away, but she recognised them immediately. A beautiful yet hardened man in paladin’s garb, a fedora set firmly on his head… and a boy her own age with a wooden katana slung across his back. Father and son, they lived up in Bad Teeth and sometimes came this way to help resolve local problems. Ignoring her father’s instructions to stand quietly, Arienel slipped across the yard so she could hear what was being said.

“… still a problem, you say?”

“Still a problem. He must have been plaguing the farm for months before I caught him at it… but then I saw him, and now he knows. He’s a crafty one… tough too. I shot him full of harpoons and he’s still going. I thought I had him just now but he disappeared into the river, and all I managed to spear was weeds.”

“I see. He must have a nest… by the water, I’d imagine.”

“I had a look around that area, but nothing obvious. And of course I wouldn’t want to leave the farm for too long… we’ve had some issues with starvers coming down from the mountains to steal crops, and I just don’t have the people to keep an eye on things.”

“Not to worry. Farron and I will go down and take a look.”

Farron was trying to stand to attention, but Arienel could see he was fidgeting. He shifted his weight slightly on his feet and looked around the yard, taking in the farm buildings and the nearby fields. Arienel waved at him. The boy quickly looked away, a slight flush spread across his features.

“Are you sure he can handle it?” Arienel’s father said doubtfully. “That raptor has sharp teeth. He took a good-sized chunk out of my leg.”

“He’ll be a paladin himself soon enough. This is a perfect learning experience for him.” The paladin’s eyes darted to where Arienel was standing. “Speaking of children, I think your daughter is listening in.”

“Arienel!” her father snapped.

“I was standing in the yard like you told me to.” She smiled innocently at him. “You wanted to be able to see me, so I thought I’d come a bit closer.”

“This isn’t talk for little girls, Arienel. Go and draw some water from the well and leave it by the kitchen so we can wash before lunch.”

“Daddy said _tits_ earlier,” Arienel told the paladin. “And _bastard.”_

“Oh, did he now?” said the paladin.

“Is Narko a bad word as well?” Arienel widened her eyes and blinked slowly at him. “Because if that’s a bad word, Daddy said—”

 _“Arienel!”_ Her father’s face had turned white. “Go and get some water.”

Arienel crossed the yard to the well, not without some glee. Hearing her father getting told off for his language was well worth the trouble she’d be in later. She was just about to lower down the bucket when she realised she was no longer alone; Farron had taken the opportunity to escape, and was watching her covertly from the shadow of the farmhouse. She spun around with her hands on her hips, radiating such ferocity that Farron stumbled backwards.

“Are you _spying?”_ she demanded.

Farron looked defensive. “I don’t spy on girls.”

“Good,” she said, turning back to the well, “coz they’d probably hit you.”

“Even if they did, I wouldn’t hit ’em back.”

She shrugged, as if she didn’t care whether he did or not, and began turning the crank to lower the bucket. “Are you going to kill Grendel?”

“What’s Grendel?”

“The river raptor, dummy. All river raptors have names. Just like how people have names.”

“How do _you_ know its name?”

“I came up with it,” she said with a shrug.

The bucket sloshed as she drew it up. It was heavy. As she struggled to unhook it, Farron stepped forward and lifted it with a grunt. She could tell by the strain on his face that he hadn’t been expecting the weight either.

“You were taking it to the kitchen?” he gasped.

“Yeah.”

“Where is it?”

She pointed. “All the way over there. It’s a long way for me. I’m not very strong.”

They went back across the yard, Farron red in the face as he tried not to spill any water. Arienel walked alongside him with a delighted smile. “Is your sword real?” she asked.

“Yeah, it’s a training sword.” He nearly dropped the bucket on his toes. Arienel put her hands behind her back, lifted her eyes to the sky and pretended not to notice he was struggling. “Dad says I’ll get a sharper sword one day soon, though.”

“I think girls should get swords too. I know _I’d_ be good at swords. And if I had a sword, I could protect the farm. I could stab river raptors.”

“I thought you liked river raptors.” He set the bucket down for a moment, bending down with his hands on his knees. “The one my dad’s gonna kill for your dad, you gave that one a name.”

“I don’t _like_ river raptors,” Arienel said, vaguely insulted by the insinuation. “I give ’em names so it’s more fun when they die.”

He edged away from her slightly. “Oh.”

“I wish I could meet Grendel. I’d go and look for him if I was allowed to leave the farm.”

“You would? Didn’t he bite your dad’s leg?”

“Yeah, but my dad is stupid. _I’d_ be clever.”

Farron picked up the bucket again. They weren’t too far from the kitchen now. “I dunno. Me and my dad, we can handle it, but it sounds too dangerous for you.”

“Are you saying I’m not clever?”

“No! Girls can be clever!”

“I think girls are cleverer than boys,” Arienel said. “Boys just run at things, like my dad does. It’s girls that come up with plans that work.”

“Oh… maybe, yeah. My mother plans lots of things around the house, she plans all the food and money and stuff. We never run out of anything… where do you want me to put this bucket?”

“Put it by the steps.” Arienel looked down at her feet, caked in mud in spite of her father’s best efforts. “You’ll make a really good paladin, you know. Coz you’re strong, and you help people.”

The redness was back in Farron’s cheeks. “Oh… I suppose.”

“And coz you helped me, I’d like to help you too. I’m not strong. I’m only a girl, after all. But I’m smart.” She smiled widely at him. “What if I was clever and came up with a plan to surprise Grendel, and then you were strong and killed him? Nobody would get bitten on the leg, and I bet my father would be really happy.”

“That sounds great!” But Farron’s face quickly fell. “Your dad would never let you, and nor would mine.”

“Then we won’t tell them.” The paladin was still lecturing Arienel’s father. It sounded as though he’d forgotten the original reason for coming to the farm. “Grown-ups are useless anyway. I bet we could find the nest, kill Grendel and come back before your father’s done with talking to mine.”

Farron brightened, if only a little. “Do you really think we could kill him on our own?”

“Yeah, definitely! He’s only one raptor, and there’s two of us. He wouldn’t stand a chance. Please, Farron. I really want to be helpful. I don’t want to be stuck here all bored when I can be helpful.”

He nodded as she’d hoped he would, and checked to make sure their respective fathers remained distracted. “All right. What do you think would be the best way to get to the river?”

Arienel thought about it for a moment. “If we cut straight through the wheatstraw field over there, we’ll be able to get most of the way to the river without anyone seeing us.”

“That sounds good.” He lifted a nervous hand to the katana on his back. “Let’s go.”

They moved as stealthily as they could, hunkering down and trying not to cause too much disturbance in the wheatstraw. Farron went in front, with Arienel occasionally poking her head above the waving stalks to see if anyone had noticed their absence yet. Finally they reached the river, triumphant and grinning. Arienel stamped her feet in the shallows, watching the mud swirl into the water.

“Which way?” said Farron.

Arienel pursed her lips, considering. Grendel had _disappeared_ into the river, and all her father had caught was riverweeds… Her eyes cast around and found a section where the water got deeper, and weeds grew thick on both sides of the riverbank. “That’s the way.”

The two children set off across the muddy grass. Farron was gripping the strap of his katana tightly, his face set with stubborn determination. Arienel followed at a slight distance, brushing her hands through the riverweeds and humming to herself. Even the prospect of missing lunch was not enough to distract her from the thrill of the exciting adventure that lay ahead.


	2. Dung and Dusted

Grendel’s trail was not nearly as easy to follow as Farron had hoped it would be. The soft mud by the riverbank was imprinted with numerous raptor tracks, but they’d been moving as a group, and the tracks were not so fresh in any case. Farron crouched down, poking at the mud with a stick, and wondered how his dad would have handled it.

His dad was good with tracks. Farron had always listened attentively to his lessons, and loved helping his dad find raptor-nests. But right now his dad wasn’t here to guide him or ask questions that got him thinking, and Arienel was watching him expectantly from a distance.

“Well?” she said as Farron studied the mud. “Have you found anything?”

The back of Farron’s shirt was starting to feel damp, and it wasn’t just from the climbing sun. He was beginning to regret telling Arienel he knew how to track down animals. “If he’s big, he probably leaves big footprints. These ones are small. Probably females and their babies.”

“So where _are_ his footprints?”

Farron straightened up. Arienel’s sharp questioning was putting the heat back in his face. “They gotta be somewhere,” he said. “Maybe he was in the river.”

“In that case, we should keep going. He had to get out of the water at _some_ point.”

The river was starting to widen. Farron rolled up his shorts a little higher and stepped into the water. The pointy rocks on the riverbed stung the soles of his feet, but he refused to let the pain show in his face. He didn’t want Arienel to think he was a wimp. “I’m gonna check the other side. Maybe he went through some weeds.”

“You do that. I’m staying here.”

Farron knew there was a good chance his search would turn up nothing, but he was still hopeful. He waded out to the middle of the river, wincing as the cold water lapped at the bottom of his shorts. Luckily, this was the deepest section, and Farron was able to scramble to the opposite riverbank without getting soaked.

Away from Arienel, it was easier to focus. Farron inspected the riverweeds a little more leisurely than he might otherwise have done, noting the way they were parted. He waved to attract Arienel’s attention. “Come over here!”

“What, into the river? No thanks. I’ll get wet.”

“The weeds are disturbed.” Farron realised he was grinning. Maybe his tracking wasn’t quite so bad after all. “And there are some _big_ raptor prints leading away from them.”

Arienel’s eyes lit up. She hitched up her skirt and took the plunge, splashing through the water towards him. Farron averted his gaze; his mother had always told him not to look at a girl’s knees. He was so focused on avoiding them that when Arienel barged past him, she almost knocked him off balance.

“Where are the raptor prints?” She stopped short, making a little gasp of delight. “Yes! We found them!”

“They seem to be going off that way.” Farron pointed. “Come on, let’s see if we can follow them.”

Now they’d found the trail, they walked with more confidence. Arienel strode ahead with the determined gait of someone who couldn’t wait to kill a raptor. Farron did his best to keep up, but the ground was difficult and his feet still hurt. All he could do was keep an eye on Arienel, which he wasn’t entirely opposed to. Her boyish hair, rumpled by the breeze, bobbed up and down as she climbed over rocks, and she seemed entirely unhampered by the muddy confines of her skirts. Farron tried to tell himself that he wasn’t staring, he was just watching out for her, but it still felt wrong. At least he couldn’t see her knees…

“I can’t see the trail anymore,” Arienel suddenly announced.

Now she’d stopped, Farron was able to catch up with her. She was right; the flat mud had given way to grassy hillside, and the tracks appeared to have vanished. Farron glanced around and saw no signs of a sudden sharp turn. “He probably kept going straight ahead,” he said. “We can double back if we don’t pick up the trail again.”

“All right,” Arienel said doubtfully.

It was a steep climb up the hill, and the going was made tougher by the knowledge they might be taking the wrong direction. Farron could feel himself starting to tire before he was even halfway to the summit. The wooden katana bumped against his back with every step he took.

“We’re getting farther from the river,” Arienel said. Farron looked back. The river appeared significantly narrower than it had been before, and the trees that surrounded it were smaller. “Don’t river raptors like to… y’know… have their nests _by_ the river?”

“Maybe he doesn’t have a nest as such. Raptors normally work with others in their nests.”

“I guess. He’s always on his own when he comes to the farm.”

They pushed forward, eventually hitting the top of the hill. Abandoning any pretence, Farron flopped onto the grass and rubbed his sore feet. The farm was a distant dot on the horizon, and they were too far away to see if their dads were looking for them. “We should take a break,” he said. “We’ll probably find his hideout soon.”

Arienel was already scouting ahead, looking for where the trail picked up again. “He must come a real long way just to eat some greenfruit.”

Farron picked a handful of grass and let it fall. It was peaceful up here, a cool and gentle breeze chasing away the heat of the midday sun. The allure of following a river raptor to Okran knew where began to fade… surely it would be far nicer to sit up here and enjoy the sunshine…

“Come on,” Arienel called from in front. “We got a raptor to fight. That’s if you aren’t _scared.”_

Farron hastily scrambled to his feet. “I’m not scared! Why, are you?”

“No. I’m clever, remember.”

“Maybe it’s _clever_ to be scared.” He half-wanted her to admit to it, so he could promise to protect her.

She giggled. “But you’re not scared, so that must make you _stupid_.”

“I never said—” Farron stopped; he had no idea what the second half of that protestation might have been and besides, Arienel wasn’t listening. She was already dancing ahead with little regard for whatever trail might be there. “Arienel, wait up!”

To his relief, Arienel slowed her pace and allowed him to go in front. Farron signalled for them to stop, squatting down so he could take another look at the grass. But the grass was entirely undisturbed, as if nothing had ever passed this way, and Farron sat back with a groan. His dad would have been disappointed at his failure… maybe it was for the best he wasn’t here right now…

“We could double back,” Arienel suggested.

Farron shook his head. The thought of descending the hill they’d worked so hard to climb was enough to make him balk. “Let’s go on a bit. If we don’t see anything soon, we’ll just have to try something different.”

“What sort of different?” Arienel said.

“I don’t know. You’re the clever one, you think of something.”

They set off again. This time Arienel walked at a more subdued pace, and her despondency hung like a heavy cloud above their heads. Farron hoped it wasn’t his fault. He had a horrible feeling he might have snapped at her just now. “I bet we’ll find him,” he said, trying to soften any blow he may have landed. “He’s just one raptor. He can’t be _that_ hard to find.”

“My father said he was clever. Do you think that means he knows how to stop us finding his trail?”

“Clever for a river raptor,” Farron said dismissively. “They still got little brains.”

“It’d be embarrassing, wouldn’t it, if we were outsmarted by a—” Arienel’s words cut into a shriek. _“Ew!”_

Arienel’s shriek had been enough to set Farron’s heart racing with adrenaline. It took him several seconds to realise she wasn’t in danger, although she certainly wasn’t happy. As his pulse settled to a more normal level, Arienel hurried to a rain-dampened patch of grass and furiously wiped her feet. Her face was scrunched in disgust. “I just stepped in _poo_.”

“Poo! That’s brilliant!”

Arienel’s disgust turned to a withering look. “You boys are gross. I bet you wouldn’t be saying that if _you’d_ stepped in it.”

“No, I mean…” The dung was fresh, judging by the texture and the fly activity. Farron considered the size of it, and thought back to previous excursions with his father. “Hey look, it’s splattery. And there’s bits of plants in it.”

“I don’t want to know about splattery poo, Farron.”

“But this could be a trail! Raptors eat mostly plants, right? And it’s big enough to come from something that size. I bet you this is raptor dung.”

Arienel’s jaw dropped. “Oh. So that means…”

“That means we’re on the right track!” Farron nearly danced on the spot but caught himself just in time. “He probably doesn’t poo too close to his den, otherwise the bonedogs would smell it and hunt him down. But I bet he isn’t far.”

Arienel was searching around with freshly sharpened interest. She scrambled up another, smaller hill and shielded her eyes with her hands, squinting into the sunlight. Farron joined her, and the two of them scanned the surrounding area in silence. They had to be at the very edge of the Pride here; beyond the hill they were standing on, Farron could see arid cliffs and a lot of rocks. “I think this must be the Border Zone,” he said.

“The Border Zone.” Arienel said the words slowly, as if savouring them.

“Border Zone isn’t Holy Nation territory. My dad says these lands are godless and full of bandits.”

“My father too. He said I was never to go there.”

They looked at each other for a moment, as if weighing up their options. Then Arienel laughed, and Farron knew she’d made a decision for them both. “Well,” she said, “better go and find out just how bad it is.”

Farron drew his katana. It felt more comforting to have it in his hand. “I’ll go in front,” he said. “If something attacks us, I’ll attack it back and you run.”

The ground was scattered with rocks both large and small. Farron tried to move as carefully as he could — he’d be no use to Arienel if he was injured — but every few steps brought a misstep, jarring both his ankles. Arienel, by contrast, was jumping from rock to rock like a small wild goat. It was difficult to believe she’d never left the farm, and Farron couldn’t help wondering if this was really the first time she’d sneaked off somewhere.

“Hey Farron,” she said, coming to a halt on a wobbling slab of rock, “come and look at this.”

Farron hurried forward, nearly rolling his ankles several more times. He was beginning to regret taking the katana out of its sheath, as the wooden weight was doing its best to upset his balance. “What is it?”

“Look at the dust.” She was hunched down in an unladylike fashion, her skirt hiked up around her knees. Farron blushed and did his best to look at the dust, and only at the dust. “There’s something here. Looks like a thing with claws walked over it but tried to scuff them.”

“Oh, yeah!” Farron liked to think he had sharp eyes, but he had to admit he’d never have seen the faint imprints in a thousand years. He put his hand in the dust, comparing it with the size of the feet. The prints came out larger. “Well, it’s definitely not a bonedog, coz their paws are smaller’n that, and differently shaped. I reckon it’s gotta be a raptor.”

“Grendel.” Her voice went a little quiet for a moment as she stared at something. Farron followed her line of sight. A low rocky outcrop, about six feet in height, lay a short distance away. Parts of the cliff were in shadow, but Farron could see one shadow that was deeper than the rest; a jagged mouth of darkness, yawning and waiting and entirely uninviting. “Farron, I think these prints go towards that cave.”

“Oh.” For all the time they’d spent chasing Grendel’s trail, Farron had given little thought to what they’d do when they finally found his hideout. Now they’d found it, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to run away and not look back. The katana, formerly the trusty weapon of a brave soldier, felt like a stupid toy in his hand. “And we gotta…”

She gulped audibly. “We can’t fight him in the cave. It’s too dark in there.”

They approached the cave tentatively, not wanting to alert anything inside to their presence. The cave entrance wasn’t very big — a little taller than the children and just wide enough for them to be able to stand side-by-side. The floor seemed to drop away from the entrance, descending deep into the cliff. It was impossible to know how far it went.

Farron backed away from the entrance, dragging Arienel with him. “You said you were clever. What do you think we should do?”

Arienel frowned. “Well, if we can’t fight him _in_ the cave, we’ll just have to fight him _out_ of it.”

“But how? He only raided your farm this morning. It could be days before he comes out again.”

“I know that. We just need to speed things up.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “He wouldn’t be very happy if someone went _into_ his cave, would he?”

“No. He’d probably attack whoever it was, and then we’d be fighting him in the cave.”

“But raptors are slow. I could outrun him.”

Farron blinked. The true meaning of what Arienel was suggesting was just beginning to dawn. “No! He could hurt you.”

“That’s what makes it exciting.” She was already pacing, sending up dust. “It’s only a small cliff. You could get the drop on him… _really_ get the drop on him.” She pointed at the top of the cliff. “If you waited up there and jumped on top, I bet that’d surprise him.”

Farron shook his head vigorously. “It’s a bad idea. If I miss him, _he’d_ have the advantage. And if I miss him and hit _you,_ you’ll get squashed and he’ll be able to attack both of us.”

“I’ll be careful,” Arienel said with a sniff. “If there’s enough distance between me and slowpoke Grendel, you won’t jump on me by mistake. Unless you’re dumb enough to mistake a girl for a raptor.”

“I don’t know, Arienel. It’d be putting you in danger, and that’s not right—”

“Balls to what’s not right!” Arienel snapped, and Farron half-expected their fathers to materialise behind them and scold her for her language. “We came all this way, went up that big hill, I stepped in _poo_ , and now we finally found Grendel you just want to run away like a coward?”

“I’m not being a coward! I just don’t want you to get hurt!”

“If you walk away now, I’m never talking to you again.”

Farron paled. Arienel was scowling at him with such boiling intensity he knew she meant it. He’d been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to her for ages now, ever since that first time he and his father had gone to her farm. Now he’d finally managed it, it was all in danger of being whisked away again. “I’m not walking away,” he muttered unwillingly.

“Good.” She smiled a wide, slightly gap-toothed smile. “Then let’s do this. You’d better get in position, coz I’m going in now.”

Farron’s hand sweated around his katana. Going along with Arienel’s plan felt like something they’d both live to regret.

And, as the last glimpse of Arienel’s skirt disappeared into the cave’s gaping jaws, _living_ began to feel like less and less of a guarantee.


	3. Eyes in the Dark

Arienel’s confident smile did not last once she had turned her back on Farron. It was difficult to approach the yawning darkness with anything other than dread, especially in the knowledge that something sinister lurked inside of it. Arienel risked a glance back but saw no sign of Farron. She assumed he’d followed the plan and clambered to the top of the cliff just above the cave entrance.

 _Unless he ran away like a stupid coward._ The doubts flared before she could control them, and the urge to run nearly got the better of her. Arienel curled her toes into the floor and stood still, waiting for it to pass.

She wasn’t in total darkness yet; the area surrounding the cave entrance was something of a twilight zone. Fingers of daylight stretched along ridges in the cave walls, deepening the shadows in adjacent crevices. Ahead of her was a darkness that had never seen light, a living darkness that breathed and shifted and watched her shaking silhouette with malice.

Even from the entrance, the cave _stank._ Arienel had been holding her breath, and she nearly retched as she gasped for air. Greenfruit smelled a little like this when they turned to pulp in the fields, but it wasn’t just vegetable rot that filled the cave. There was a musky odour too, something between dead rat and living rat… and a rustiness that reminded Arienel of old iron. She wouldn’t have breathed the air at all if she could have avoided it, but smelling it was undoubtedly the worst part. So she gritted her teeth, pinched her nose and forced herself to step into the stinking darkness.

Away from the light the cave floor seemed to get ever steeper, and Arienel stumbled multiple times as she descended. On a couple of occasions she kicked more than just rock — things that were softer and squashier. They could have been dung, or rotting greenfruit, or perhaps even small dead things waiting to be feasted on. Just as Arienel managed to convince herself that river raptors mostly ate crops, she stepped on something that clattered underfoot, and her frenzied mind immediately went to _Bones._

She should never have come here. Finding a nest in the open was one thing, but walking straight into a dark cave didn’t seem so smart to Arienel anymore. She might have been faster than a river raptor, but the menacing darkness was not on her side. Grendel was probably licking his lips in anticipation, waiting for her to stumble blindly into him.

Arienel took another step forward and missed the ground. It wasn’t much of a drop, six inches at most, but it was enough to chill her blood and send her heart racing. There could be more missteps like this ahead, and she wouldn’t be able to see them. Arienel was struck with a sudden, vivid vision of her own broken body lying at the bottom of some subterranean cliff.

“Okran…” She whispered the word, but the word still echoed. Her mind scrambled for a prayer, but nothing came to mind. Maybe she hadn’t prayed enough recently. She hadn’t forgotten the story her father had told her of the little boy who’d missed his prayers at bedtime and been dismembered by a Skeleton…

It was getting harder to convince herself to keep going. Arienel’s knees felt oddly locked and rigid, like the cave was turning her legs into stone. Her feet edged forward more slowly than they had been, feeling out potential drops. And still the cave went deeper, a never-ending tunnel that might contain any number of other dangers. She forced herself to let go of her nose, choosing free use of both hands over what was left of her comfort levels, and nearly vomited as the stink hit her again. The cave entrance had had nothing on this.

The darkness growled.

Arienel had been anticipating it, but she still almost screamed. The growl echoed just as her desperate plea had done, bouncing off unseen walls until she had no idea which direction it had come from. It _had_ to be a raptor growl, it surely wasn’t deep enough to belong to a bonedog… and yet that growl carried so much hatred Arienel knew she was facing something just as dangerous.

“Grendel,” she said. She tried her best to sound confrontational, like a brave paladin in a storybook, but it came out as a frightened, childish squeak.

The darkness growled again. It was a shorter growl, as if responding to the name Arienel had chosen.

“You’ve been stealing from our farm,” she accused the darkness. “And that’s not right. You didn’t plant the crops, or tend ’em. All you did was steal. Coz you might be smart and all, but you’re just a nasty little thief.”

Movement, as if something was approaching from in front. Arienel tried to gauge the distance, but quickly decided she didn’t need to know; however far away it was, she wanted to run. And she wanted to run _now._

“Come and get me then,” she said, and ran.

Running was every bit as difficult as Arienel had feared. She was moving uphill for a start, and the unevenness was far more of an obstacle. Her feet seemed to stumble on _everything._ Behind her lumbered something big. It might not have been fast, but Arienel sensed a contentment with its own speed, as if it knew it would catch up with her eventually.

“Tits.” The word didn’t feel strong enough, and it occurred to Arienel that she didn’t even know what it meant. “Bastard. Tits, balls, b— _argh_!”

That stupid six-inch ledge… Her foot slammed into the rock, sending her sprawling. Sharp grit scraped her knee, and she felt the blood well up. She took in a sobbing breath, raptor growls filling her ears, and scrambled into a standing position. The window of light was getting bigger, but it was still too far away…

Now running hurt. Her big toe screamed with pain every time it touched the ground, and her knee was bleeding. Worse still, her stupid dress was getting in the way. She scrunched it into her fists, yanking it above her knees, and threw a couple more swearwords in Grendel’s direction. Judging by the way the stench was following her, she was definitely still being pursued.

Finally — _finally_ — the exit loomed. Arienel screwed up her eyes but kept on running. Now she could see better, she could move faster. Just a few more steps… just a few more steps and she’d be out of this cave and into the daylight…

“Farron!” she yelled.

She thought she heard his muffled answer. It was enough to reassure her that he hadn’t run, that he was ready to enact his part of the plan. As she spilled out into proper sunlight, she looked back and saw him perched above the cave entrance, katana in hand, waiting for Grendel.

Grendel.

He was in the mouth of the cave at this point, and showed no signs of stopping. Arienel backed away, more from disgust than fear. He was _ugly,_ even for a river raptor. His body was squat and oddly bulbous, like a sack of greenfruit on a splayed pair of feet. His leathery hide, thick with scars, still bore harpoons from where her father had shot him earlier — harpoons that were covered in drying, crusty blood. Perhaps worst of all was his face; two furious yellow eyes, one wide and one squinched almost shut, and a pair of jaws strong enough to leave nasty toothmarks in a man’s leg. Arienel stared up at Farron, small and slight in comparison to Grendel. _Maybe I shouldn’t get him to jump…_

“Is he underneath?” Farron was right on the edge of the cliff, trying to gauge whether or not to jump.

They’d come all this way. Their plan was so close to success… all Farron needed to do was kill him. Arienel cupped her hands to her mouth. “Yes! _Now!”_

Farron jumped. For the tiniest fraction of a second he seemed suspended, a figure that was ungainly but thoroughly set on its task. Then he landed, his downward momentum plunging the tip of the wooden training katana into Grendel’s hide.

Grendel screeched. It was an animalistic screech, but something in it was just human enough for Arienel to shudder. He reared up, his tiny front arms flailing almost comically, but Farron clung on. The katana had lodged into the hide of the raptor’s neck, and with every little struggle Grendel made Farron was able to drive it slightly deeper.

 _He won’t be able to do it,_ thought Arienel. _His hide’s too thick, not even the harpoons—_

Farron grunted. His weight and positioning threatened to topple Grendel, but Grendel still had a trick or two to play. He turned to face his cave, greenfruit-sack body swinging around, and struggled into the entrance. Arienel cast around for a rock and found one. She wasn’t sure what she would do with it — it was far too heavy to throw — but it felt good to have it all the same…

Grendel twisted again, and Farron’s grip loosened. Before he could try and correct his balance Grendel slammed into the cave wall, squashing Farron between his hide and the rock face. Farron let go, sliding down the wall. Grendel opened his jaws with a hiss. The wooden katana stuck out of his neck like a harpoon.

 _Get up, you stupid idiot, you stupid boy._ But Farron was clutching his head, and the side of his throat was exposed to Grendel’s next attack. Arienel stumbled forward with a yell, slamming her chunk of rock into Grendel’s flank.

It was just enough to surprise him, because his head turned. The malevolent yellow eyes were entirely fixed on Arienel now. Behind him Farron was struggling to his feet, his hand reaching towards his embedded sword. Arienel knew she had to keep the distraction going, just a little longer.

“Bastard,” she said, and gripped the rock tightly in her hands. “Stupid _bastard_ thief.”

Farron lunged. Grendel, who’d evidently thought him subdued, had no chance to react, only to reel. Arienel saw a hand grip the hilt of the sword, the knuckles turning white as it clung on. Then the hand was followed by an arm covered with scrapes and scratches, and finally the rest of Farron. Grendel’s jaws opened again, but this time it was for another screech. Farron dug his heels into Grendel’s flanks, his face contorted with pain and concentration. “Arienel, get out of the way!”

She jumped aside as best she could in the confined space. Farron’s knees tilted together, trying to get some kind of hold, and his arms shook around his sword. Arienel couldn’t tell if he was trying to drag it free or double down and push it deeper, but either way it wasn’t working; the sword remained firmly in position, and even in the gloom she could tell it was starting to splinter. _It’s a training sword, it’s not designed for killing raptors._

“What are you gonna do?” she squeaked.

“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Farron’s teeth were chattering with adrenaline.

All she had was a stupid stone… Arienel nearly dropped it on her feet as Grendel’s eyes rolled back towards her. Presumably he’d come to see Farron as nothing more than an annoyance to be dealt with later, because he was now approaching her…

“Hey! Stay away from her!” Farron slammed his hand on the raptor’s head. Arienel clung on to the rock, determined not to drop it, and slowly started edging along the cave wall. Grendel continued to move forwards, swinging from side to side in his attempts to dislodge Farron. Every time she tried to feint he anticipated it, his body turning to wherever he thought she was.

 _He’s not taking his eyes off me,_ she thought desperately, and looked to Farron. There had been a thin trickle of blood running down the side of his face by his ear, but the bleeding was worsening. He looked hurt, and his fingers were slipping again…

Grendel’s jaws opened, going for her neck. Arienel closed her eyes, decided risking her hands was worth it if she got to keep her life, and plunged them into Grendel’s gaping jaws. The rock dropped slightly in her grasp, breaking teeth in the process. Grendel tried to shake the rock free but Arienel held on, forcing herself to keep it there. Several of her fingers scraped at the skin on Grendel’s jaws, trying to stop him snatching his head back. “Farron, do something!”

Farron was still struggling with the sword. Grendel, realising he couldn’t move away, used his last available defence and closed his jaws. With the rock in the way Arienel only had one set of teeth to worry about, but she still screamed as they pierced her hands. Grendel nudged her backwards with his nose, pushing her up against the wall.

“Farron!”

“I’m trying!” Farron was staring at something above Arienel’s head. She looked up too and saw a horizontal crevice in the rock. As Grendel shoved them all into the wall Farron dived forward, plunging his hands into the crevice and hanging on tightly. With his body now semi-suspended, he lifted his feet off Grendel’s back, stamping on the katana. More splinters of wood broke off as the blade was rammed deeper.

“You’re gonna break it!” Arienel yelped, but she wasn’t at all sure she cared. It was difficult to see much past the pained tears in her eyes. “It’s not gonna—”

Farron jumped on the hilt again. This time he hit it at a slight angle, driving it towards the front of Grendel’s throat. Just as Arienel thought the sword might be tougher than it looked, the wood let out a horrible creaking sound. The hilt snapped off under Farron’s feet and clattered to the floor of the cave.

But as the sword splintered in two, something changed in Grendel’s eyes, and his jaw slackened. He wobbled, as though gravity had realised just how top-heavy his body really was. Arienel looked down and saw something small and bloodied sticking out of Grendel’s throat.

As she was registering what had just happened, Grendel fell.

He was no longer biting Arienel’s hands, but they were still in his mouth and she went down with him. Farron, who’d anticipated Grendel’s fall from the moment he’d begun to wobble, landed with more dignity. The raptor began to writhe, blood gushing from the open wound. From the panicked look in his eyes Arienel wondered if he was drowning in the stuff.

 _“Bastard,”_ she said again, retrieving her hands and wiping them on her dress. They were covered in blood and saliva. “And that’s what you get.”

Farron had already sunk to his knees, clutching his head with both hands. The hilt of his sword lay in front of him, along with a broken fragment of blade that had been stuck in the end. The blade had that jagged sharpness associated with splintered wood. Arienel picked it up and drove it into Grendel’s eye until he stopped moving. “We _did_ it,” she crowed, trying to ignore just how must she was shaking. “I bet this would make an _amazing_ drawing…”

Farron just groaned. Arienel wiped her hand some more and offered it to him. “You know,” she said, “you were kind of clever.”

“And you were kind of brave.” He accepted the hand and tried to stand up, but his face paled. _“Ow.”_

“You hit it hard, right? There’s _lots_ of blood.”

“Oh.” A greenish tinge mixed with his pallor. “Is there?”

She pulled his arm over her shoulders so he could lean on her. “Enough to be interesting,” she said happily.

They stared down at the motionless raptor by their feet. He looked smaller in death, nowhere near as intimidating. Arienel’s eyes travelled back to the broken pieces of the katana. “I’m sorry about your sword,” she said.

“It’s all right,” he replied, but he sounded a little downcast. “I’ll get a new one.”

“Do you think I could take one of his eyes back with us? I kind of ruined one of them when I stabbed it, but maybe I could take the other.”

“Why…” He squeezed his own eyes shut. “Why would you want to?”

“As a trophy.”

“Your dad won’t let you keep it.”

“No,” she said with a disgusted sigh. “I suppose not.”

“Are you gonna take it anyway?”

Arienel looked back at Grendel’s body and shook her head. She tried not to think about how much stinkier he would be when he started to rot.

“Let’s just get out of here,” she said.

And the two of them turned their backs on the cave, leaving their odorous victory well behind them.


	4. The Tipped Fedora

Farron and Arienel did not have to walk far to return to the fertile green hills of Okran’s Pride, but their progress was slow nonetheless. Arienel had ignored Farron’s various assertions that he was able to walk unaided, and Farron was glad for it. The blow to the head had knocked out his balance, and there were brief spells where he felt dizzy and a little sick. He stumbled again, his ankle twisting on a rock, and Arienel caught him.

She’d said she was fine, but she didn’t seem to be faring much better. Farron could feel her shoulders trembling underneath his arm. It wasn’t just the shock of what had happened either; her figure was slighter than his, and he knew she was beginning to tire with the effort of supporting him.

“We should stop for a rest,” he said.

“It’s not a good idea. There could be bonedogs out here… or bandits.” A little crease puckered the space between Arienel’s eyebrows. “And you don’t even have your sword.”

The sword. Farron just prayed his father wouldn’t be too angry about it. “I just don’t think you’ll be able to drag me all the way back.”

They’d finally reached the desert edge, where red rock blurred into green grass. Farron found himself gazing out across the Pride, taking in the trees and hills and the snaking river. The buildings of Arienel’s farm sat in the valley like little pinpricks, a reminder of another lifetime. They’d been children when they’d set off that morning, but… “Do you think we’re adults now?”

“What?” Arienel was trying to navigate the steep hill without their combined weights sending them tumbling.

“You know. We killed something. Kids don’t kill things.”

“Oh. Yeah. I don’t know. I don’t think my father will treat me as any more grown-up.” She scowled. “In fact, I bet he’ll lock me in the farmhouse and I’ll never be allowed to play in the yard again.”

A little twinge of something caught at Farron’s chest. This time they were spending together now was most likely the last unsupervised time they would ever have. “I hope he doesn’t,” he said.

“He will. I hate him. And he wishes he had a son. Not a daughter.” She slumped suddenly, dragging Farron to a stop. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Well, we can always have that rest I was talking about.”

This time Arienel didn’t argue. They lay together on the hillside, Arienel glaring at the sky, while Farron nursed his throbbing skull. Grey rainclouds pooled together above their heads. Farron gave it a few minutes before the first drops started to fall.

“He shouldn’t wish that,” he said.

“Huh? What’re you talking about?”

“That he had a son, rather’n a daughter. There’s nothing wrong with being a girl. And I’d never have killed Grendel without your help.”

“Being a girl is hard. I hate it.”

“Being a boy isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either.”

Arienel picked up a stone and threw it down the hillside. “You get to _go_ places,” she said accusingly. “Kill things.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t really have a choice. We had to leave at the crack of dawn today, before the sun was even properly up. Sometimes I’d rather just stay in bed a bit longer, and be at home when my mother cooks lunch, but…” He trailed off. There seemed a vague shame in admitting it, even to someone he thought might understand. “I don’t always want to do the dangerous things. But my father is amazing. He _always_ wants to do the dangerous things, calls it his duty to Okran. I want to be like that, and maybe he thinks I am like that. But I’m not, not all the time.”

“I bet you’d be a good paladin, you know.”

A compliment, and from a girl at that. Farron blushed, not knowing how to even respond to it. “What would make me good?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “But you know, some paladins, they’re really scary. You wouldn’t want to go to them if you had a problem. I don’t think you’d end up being like one of ’em, all big and _righteous._ You’d be like… the noble ones they have in stories. The ones who slay beasts and spread the light of Okran and… defend the women,” she added with a grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell your dad a woman defended _you.”_

“That didn’t happen!”

“Sure it did, with the _rock_ and the _distracting_ —”

Farron held up his hand. “Shh!”

“Don’t _shh_ me—”

“No, I mean _really,_ shh! I think someone’s calling us.”

To his relief, Arienel fell silent. The two of them sat and listened attentively, waiting for the next shouts to carry up the hillside.

 _“Farron!”_ His father’s voice, deep and reassuring. The voice of a true warrior of Okran. _“Farron!”_

 _“Arienel!”_ bellowed Arienel’s father, and Arienel flinched. _“Arienel!”_

“We should probably call back,” Farron said.

Arienel stood up, waving frantically. Farron tried to do the same and decided it wasn’t worth throwing up over. “We killed Grendel!” she yelled. “You don’t need to worry about killing him, coz he’s _dead_ and we made him dead—”

“You two, stay where you are. We’ll meet you up there.”

Arienel sat back on the grass. Farron could see two heads bobbing in and out of view as their fathers ascended the hillside. “Do they look angry?” he said.

“Can’t tell,” she answered glumly.

The two men climbed the hill far more quickly than Arienel and Farron had done, and soon enough their heads were followed by the rest of them. Arienel stood up, her shoulders hunched defensively. Farron gritted his teeth and tried not to let the pain show on his face.

“What happened?” Arienel’s father had already noticed her injured hands. He gripped them before she could pull away, inspecting the puncture wounds Grendel had left in her skin. “Arienel, what did you do?”

“Those look like the toothmarks of a raptor,” Farron’s father observed. “I have a first-aid kit with me.”

Farron made a final attempt to stand and succeeded. Keeping his balance was still a challenge, but nowhere near as difficult as before. His father handed the first-aid kit to Arienel’s. “If you’re confident at seeing to those injuries, I’d like to check on my son.”

He took Farron’s head in his hands, and Farron bit down hard on his lip. Now his father was here he almost wanted to cry… but now his father was here, he _shouldn’t_ cry…

“What happened?” his father said.

“I was fighting the raptor. He’s dead now.”

“Do you feel dizzy at all?”

“Only if I move my head a lot.”

“All right. It seems to have stopped bleeding. We’ll stop at the farm on the way out and check it properly, where we have access to water.”

Farron nodded, a nod that was quickly suppressed by his father’s strong hands. “If moving your head makes you dizzy, don’t move your head.”

“I’m _not lying!”_ Arienel yelled.

Both Farron and his father looked around. Arienel and her father seemed to be having a scowling match, with Arienel’s now-bandaged hands balled up into angry fists. “I’m not lying, it’s true!”

“Ridiculous! You expect me to believe that you and Farron killed the—”

“Farron has told me the same story,” Farron’s father interrupted. “And I have no reason not to believe my son.”

Farron glowed. Arienel’s father stared at them both, then slowly turned back to Arienel. Arienel’s face was red and streaked with tears. “You and Farron killed _the_ raptor?” he said, sounding thunderstruck. “The one that’s been plaguing our farm and stealing all our crops?”

“Yes! We tracked him to his den, and then Farron jumped on his back and I put a rock in his jaws. The raptor’s jaws I mean, not Farron’s—”

“Yes, yes, I…” He frowned. “This was your idea, wasn’t it? You convinced the holy brother’s son to sneak off to kill a raptor even _I_ couldn’t kill, and to take you with him.”

“But we found him and we managed to—”

“Arienel, you could have gotten yourself and Farron killed!” Her father’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. “Holy brother, what do you make of all this?”

“I think perhaps we should go back to the farm,” Farron’s father said tactfully, “before we do anything more. You’ve said yourself that you don’t like to leave the place unattended.”

“Yes… that’s true…”

“Which reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Would you consider allowing a few of our men to guard your farm? I imagine it would be an excellent solution to your starving bandit problem…”

“You could spare the resources?”

“Your farm is in a key position. I can see it being a good investment for all parties.”

“I… well, thank you, holy brother.”

The farmer and his daughter led the way back to the farm, while the paladin and his son followed a short distance behind. While they were out of sight and mostly out of earshot, Farron’s father clapped a hand on Farron’s shoulder. “You’ve done well.”

Farron’s eyes widened. “I have?”

His father reached into his pocket, pulling out a small squarish lump wrapped in paper. “You still look a little pale. Eat this and get your strength up.”

The sight of the ration pack reminded Farron he’d missed lunch. As he was tucking into it, his father lowered his voice a little further. “Later, we’ll go out this way again. You can show me the tracks you followed and we’ll go up to the cave where the body is. I’d like to check around the area and make doubly sure that was a lone raptor. After that… well…” He smiled down at Farron, and Farron’s heart missed a beat. “I think it might be time to upgrade some of your gear.”

“The sword broke. I’m sorry.”

“Not to worry. Perhaps it’s time for you to get a real steel one.”

“A _real_ one?”

“Maybe, ah… maybe not quite as sharp, but you’ve clearly earned something that can be used to kill more than just raptors. And…” He took off his fedora, passing it into Farron’s free hand. Farron stared at it stupidly, wondering if the head injury had stripped him of more than just his balance.

“What’s this for?”

“When I was a boy and made my first kill, your grandfather gave me this. It’s a tradition of sorts. Don’t put it on,” his father added, “at least not yet. Best not to risk getting blood on it.”

Farron tipped the hat, staring into the lining. It was old and stained with generations of sweat, yet somehow it seemed like the most incredible thing in the world. “This is _mine_ now?”

“Oh yes. You’ve already more than shown your worth to be a paladin.”

His worth. Farron had to resist the urge to hug the hat to his chest. “Thank you.”

“It may be a little big,” his father said, sounding amused. “I was fourteen when my father gave me this, and it was on the large side even then. But you’ll grow into it.”

A light pattering rain began to fall. By this point they were off the hillside and down by the river, and the drops that splashed into the water were slowly getting bigger. Farron’s father chuckled. “On second thoughts,” he said, “that old thing has stood up to plenty over the years. I don’t think anything could ruin it… and you might want to keep some of the rain off.”

Farron swallowed the last bite of the ration pack, tucking the empty wrapper into the pocket of his shorts. The weather was certainly turning; a strong wind blew, and he could see sheets of rain between the farm and where they were standing now. He took his father’s fedora in both hands, inhaled slowly and deeply, and put it on.

The rest of the journey back was spent in silence.


End file.
